


Not your business

by unmeiboy



Category: A.B.C.-Z, Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiboy/pseuds/unmeiboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Miyata lets Yokoo drag him along to a gay club he's only looking to have a good time. He certainly doesn't expect what does happen, and even less what follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not your business

**Author's Note:**

> Written for je-wakamono 2016 ♪

Miyata isn't the kind of person who goes to clubs a lot. He has other things to spend money on, although lately it's more of a _not spend_ kind of thing; he's been job hunting for months without any success. However that's also the reason why he agrees to go when Yokoo tells him he should put his suit on a hanger for the night and come with him to Shinjuku. There's nothing in particular to celebrate, except maybe that he got to the second interview at a place a couple days ago, but it'll be nice to go out and meet new people that aren't going to question his university degree or his ability to meet deadlines under pressure.

While he does enjoy going out, Miyata is also a little shy, which always results in him only talking to the friends he knows unless someone approaches him. It's the same tonight, but it's nice to talk to Yokoo in person for the first time in a while, to tell him about the interviews while leaning onto a bar table with a fresh drink in his hand. Yokoo is a couple of years older than Miyata, has been working the same job since he graduated university, and has been giving him some well-needed advice as changing jobs fairly early in your career isn't exactly simple when you're not an expert in your field. Miyata is no scientist, just your ordinary office worker, but he is pretty good with computers and he works hard to achieve his goals. He considers himself a nice person and so does all his friends, as far as he knows, and he tries to look his best at interviews.  
“It's probably just a matter of time before you get that call,” Yokoo encourages him, and then changes topics so that they don't talk only about jobs now that they're finally out to do something different. “Wanna dance?”  
Miyata glances towards the dance floor with a knowing smile. “You know very well that I'm not drunk enough to even consider it.”  
“Not even if it could get you something?”  
“Are you trying to hook me up with a stranger?”  
Yokoo laughs. “More drinks, I guess.”

They are fairly intoxicated when Yokoo cuts off Miyata's enthusiastic explanations about a new anime movie that was recently announced, tries to get him out on the dance floor but again fails to do so.  
“Is this why we are at a gay club? Are you trying to get me laid?” Miyata intends to sound like he's suspecting Yokoo of something fishy, but he probably ends up sounding more serious than he wanted to because Yokoo responds like it was a real question.  
“I haven't had sex with a guy for ages and you only swing that way so it felt like it was meant to be. Don't look at me like that, I'm not trying to pick _you_ up.”  
“Wouldn't let you even if you tried,” Miyata sticks his tongue out, but then laughs as he sends Yokoo out to dance on his own. “I'll be watching over you.” Yokoo rolls his eyes at the dramatic line, but within short he has blended into the moving crowd and Miyata slowly sips on his glass while he tries to look for someone that Yokoo might be into.

He's slightly surprised when there's a light knock on his shoulder, and the someone that Yokoo might want to be picking up is the one that he is face to face with when he turns around. A man around his own age, probably, really handsome with brown hair that's of a length that could need a haircut, but still looks way too good on him.  
“Hi,” the man says, and even the voice is handsome.  
“Hi,” Miyata replies, perplexed, doesn't know what to do other than introduce himself. “I'm Miyata.”  
“Fujigaya,” he gets back, but it's rushed as if names aren't important here. “Look, I'm here with a friend and he's been looking at you most of the time we've been here, but he's a little bit of a coward so there's no way he'll dare to go over here. So I decided to do it for him.” Fujigaya's eyes flicker between Miyata and a spot behind him; when he turns around he sees a young man who is mouthing at Fujigaya to get back there, only to freeze when he realizes Miyata is also looking his way. “Why don't you join us? If you feel like it, of course.”  
“I'll just let my friend know,” he finds himself saying. His sober self would probably have tried to come up with an excuse to at least hesitate, but with the alcohol Yokoo has encouraged him to, it's different. He jerks a little at the gentle pat on the shoulder he gets, shook out of his thoughts, and then Fujigaya is leaving.  
“Knew you'd be a nice guy.” Miyata isn't sure whether it's being hinted at him waiting for his friend, or that he's willing to talk to the guy who doesn't dare to hit on him himself. No matter what he means it's positive, he supposes, and doesn't get to spend more time thinking about it because Yokoo is on him within the blink of an eye.  
“If that guy just hit on you...” he starts, keeps his voice low as if Fujigaya will be able to hear him. Instead, Miyata barely hears him over the music.  
“Apparently his friend wants to?” Yokoo's eyes dart to the small group of friends that Fujigaya is joining, and he doesn't look the slightest upset.  
“The one panicking right now? He's cute, go for it.” Pause. “Can I go with you?”  
“His name is Fujigaya,” Miyata winks because Yokoo is entirely see-through. “Why don't you ask him to dance with you?”

Apparently that's a good idea, and together they squeeze past people and make it to the table where Fujigaya is laughing with the friends that don't look like they're holding their breath.  
“This is Yokoo.” Miyata starts by introducing him to Fujigaya so that that's out of the way, and holds back an amused sound when Fujigaya suggests that they hit the dance floor together. “And I'm Miyata,” he says as he turns to the man he supposes is the one Fujigaya was talking to. He looks even less sober than Miyata feels, but he's still really good looking. Kind of short, black hair, dark brown eyes and facial features that are just strong enough. There's no way Miyata would have dared to hit on this guy out of the blue, but Fujigaya's words had been encouraging.  
“I'm Tama,” the man says then, and Miyata lifts an eyebrow at it.  
“Tama...?” That isn't a full last name, that's for sure.  
“Just call me Tama,” he manages, and when Miyata tries to add a polite suffix, he's corrected. “Tama-chan.”

Just like Fujigaya had told Miyata, Tama really is shy. It takes a while until he actually joins the conversation Miyata is trying to hold with him, and when he does he's still looking more at his glass than at Miyata. He's probably having fun, though, because he's laughing when Miyata talks about anime they both used to watch when they were young, and it's nice to have someone who doesn't mind him talking about his number one hobby (although he does stay away from the fact that he still watches loads of it, because he can get a bit too excited about it and he doubts that's a good first impression). The only thing that bothers Miyata a little is that each time Tama flicks his eyes from the table to Miyata he quickly turns them back, almost like the sight of his face burns his in his eyes, and he can't not ask about it.  
“Tama-chan,” it feels weird to call someone he just met something so casual, “I don't have anything on my face, right?”  
“Ah, no,” Tama rushes to say, his cheeks going red in an instant.  
“... My nose?” Miyata is aware that he has a big nose and he doesn't dislike it, it's part of his face and a distinct feature. He once photoshopped it smaller and laughed at the picture for a while, then decided that he's perfectly fine the way he is. But that doesn't mean everyone else won't react.  
“No no no no,” Tama denies, and this time he looks Miyata straight in the eyes. “It's just, you're, you're kind of exactly my type and...”

That's a first. Miyata does get laid, has had long-term boyfriends too, but he has never been told that he's _exactly_ someone's type. It feels good to hear.  
Miyata lowers his voice and leans closer. “It's a little difficult to hit on you around your friends. Wanna go sit down? Dance?”  
“I don't dance very well,” Tama makes a face, but Miyata just laughs.  
“Neither do I.” He assumes it's the alcohol that has him pulled onto the dance floor anyway, Tama close up against him and he's even more attractive now that he has straightened up, tall and lean and a hint of muscle under the stylish white shirt he's wearing. He's also a lot more in charge than Miyata expected him to be, easily puts his hands on Miyata's body, one in the back of his neck and before he knows it Tama is leaning down and there's a pair of hungry lips on his own. Perhaps he's no good with words but not as shy when it comes to the physical part. It would seem so, and Miyata lets himself be lost in a kiss that steals his breath and has his head spinning, until Tama pulls back and he has to steady himself with a hand on his waist as he figures out what is up and what is down. He's still close, Miyata can feel puffs of his breath against his face, and when he looks up he's got a different look in his eyes now that they're no longer talking.

He loses track of time in favor of Tama's lips, his tongue as it teases Miyata's, of his smell and the feeling of him so close that his body heat sinks through the fabric of their clothes into his own skin, and he never wants it to end. At least not until someone bumps into his back, again and again, and when he breaks the kiss to glance over his shoulder he's not the slightest surprised to find that it's Fujigaya, back against his and body moving in what looks like he's humping Yokoo's leg. The smug look on Yokoo's face when he spots Miyata can only be confirmation to his suspicions.

Tama mumbles something that sounds like “that slut” (which is interesting considering he's doing basically the same thing) before he grabs Miyata by his hand and pulls him away from the center of the club, towards what Miyata belatedly realizes is the men's room. When they get inside Tama leads him into a cubicle, totally ignoring the glances they get, and once the door is closed he finds himself pressed against a wall. Tama makes a little sound, like a moan but without any stimulation and very quietly, then he leans back in for another kiss and this time his hands roam freely down Miyata's chest. He's fumbling when he pops the lowest button on his shirt, slides one hand up it and warmth spreads over Miyata's skin with it. Warmth that turns into a tingle as his nerves pick up the touch, and that heat travels downwards with his blood, increases drastically when Tama starts fumbling with the fastenings of his pants. The belt goes easily enough, but the button is a bit difficult and he pauses, unable to kiss properly as his focus is on his hands, but he makes up for it with more force when he gets the pants open. Before he slides his hand down Miyata's pants he pauses, though, as if suddenly looking for permission, or any sign of resistance; Miyata only pulls him down again as he rolls his hips towards his hands.

And as Tama wraps his hand around his cock and strokes him to a full erection Miyata starts getting into the idea of letting him do what he wants, letting him push him against the tiled wall as they get off together. His mind plays with it and he finds himself imagining getting turned around, pants pushed down and hands against the wall to brace himself while Tama pushes inside him, and it's a fantasy pleasant enough that he starts hoping for it. But then suddenly there's no longer any mouth against his own, no hot breaths close to his face and when he opens his eyes he realizes Tama has dropped to his knees without a word. His cock twitches when he catches the split second that Tama's tongue darts out to wet his lips, then again when a hand comes up to wrap around him, stroking slowly as he angles it towards his just slightly open mouth. Tama's other hand finds one of Miyata's, places it lightly on his own head and pushes against it.  
“Can I...?” he begins, cut off by enthusiastic nodding and he slides his hand into Tama's hair, takes a few strands between his fingers and the very second the head of his cock meets saliva-wet lips, Tama's dominance starts falling apart.

Tama sucks like he has been denied any kind of sexual attention for quite a while, like giving head is the best thing he could think of right now (and Miyata has to agree because it's _good_ ). He tries to keep his eyes on him, on the pink lips stretching around his cock as he takes it further in by each bob of his head, the saliva that glistens in the dim lighting of the restroom, Tama's eyes, turned downwards in concentration and it's just so hot how willing he is, how he seems to get turned on just by getting Miyata off. One of his hands is working the base of his erection since he can't get all of it in his mouth, his tongue swift against the head of it and when Miyata accidentally pulls on his hair there's a moan that he feels through his cock and suddenly he realizes he's very, very close to coming.  
“Tama-chan,” he breathes, attempting to warn but it only results in another moan from Tama, and then he's pulling on the dark hair hard enough that he's afraid it might hurt, but he also can't stop because Tama is sucking his orgasm right out of him, letting him come into his mouth and when he pulls back, he's swallowing too.

It's with eyes dark with want that Tama stands up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and barely gets to bring it down before Miyata pulls on his shirt and their lips crash together. He can feel the taste of himself on Tama's tongue and he doesn't mind; even if he did he wouldn't try to pull away as Tama is over-the-top hot like this. He's kissing Miyata nearly feverishly, like all he wants is to be touched but won't do anything about it himself. Putting one hand on his lower stomach has him mewling and pushing closer, and when Miyata teases with it, slipping it under his shirt, then out again, he makes a sound so frustrated that he takes pity on him.

Or would, because as he unfastens the button to his pants someone bursts into the bathroom calling for Tama.  
“You're there aren't you?” It's Fujigaya's voice. “I don't care what you're doing just get your clothes back on, Hasshi is gone and if someone slipped him something I'll never forgive any of us, so get the fuck out and help me look for him.”

The look on Tama's face is as annoyed as it is worried, and mixed with how obviously turned on he is, it could be hilarious if it wasn't for the situation.  
“Go help your friends,” Miyata tells him as he does the button for him. He ignores the bulge just below that. “I'll make up for it later.” Tama nods, leans in to kiss Miyata again, but he pushes him away. “I won't disappear.”

Miyata walks out of the bathroom a little later, after getting his own clothes back in order. Outside he finds Yokoo in what looks like a state similar to Tama's, only more confused and a little angry.  
“I just got a blowjob I didn't get to return,” Miyata says, because it's all he can think of.  
“Lucky. Fujigaya promised to go with me home and then he left while I was getting drinks.” Maybe Yokoo didn't hear about the reason they left, and when Miyata explains what he heard, the hint of anger turns into sympathetic worry.  
“I could've helped to search, though.”  
“Maybe they panicked too much to realize that. Hasshi was the youngest one, wasn't he?”  
“No idea, you're the one that talked to them. Do you think they'll come back?”

In the end, neither Tama nor Fujigaya shows up at the club again, and as he didn't even get Tama's number, Miyata gives up on returning what Tama had given him and can't help but feel disappointed about it. He would have loved to see and hear him, feel him hard in his hand, listen to his breaths and let him choose for himself how he wants his release. He would've gone down on him too, or let him shove his pants down to do him right there in the bathroom. Miyata maybe fantasizes about it before he falls asleep that night, and the following nights as well.

Job hunting continues. Miyata is getting tired of it, but it's necessary and if he feels good about his efforts at his next interview he's going to reward himself with a new figurine, he has decided. Maybe he will buy it anyway, because it's limited edition and he needs it. It turns out though, the day before said interview, that he doesn't have to wait for it. There's a call early in the morning (but he has at least gotten out of bed), and he picks it up with butterflies in his entire body.  
“Miyata Toshiya,” he answers, heartbeat racing as he waits for the person on the other side of the line.  
“This is Kawai, HR at 3.6.5 Corporation.”  
“Yes?” Miyata feels sweat breaking out on his forehead; this sounds a lot like what he hopes it is.  
“We have come to a conclusion about our new recruits.” Pause. “If you are still interested, we would like to offer you a position in our company.”  
“Yes,” Miyata doesn't realize he's repeating himself, “yes, I'm interested, of course. Gladly.”  
“Fantastic.” The man on the phone sounds pleased with his answer. “We would like you to start within a month, preferably as soon as possible. Your application says you are living in Tokyo, so I assume there won't have to be any new arrangements with housing on your part.”  
“That's correct. I can start whenever you want, actually.”  
“Perfect.” The sound of pen on paper is heard in the background. “Would you like to come on Friday? I will give you a short introduction to your role at the company, do the paperwork, and then you will meet your new colleagues. You can see it as a day to get a feeling of what you're going to do.”  
“Absolutely, Friday. What time should I arrive?”  
“Let's see... Nine o'clock, please. Tell the people in the reception that you're there, and I will come to meet you. Oh, and you will start for real the following Monday.”  
“Nine, okay.” Miyata is half excited and half shocked. He has a job.  
“That's all for now, I'll see you on Friday.”  
“I'm looking forward to it.” _Be yourself_ , he tells himself, and stops hiding how happy he really is. “Thank you so much!”  
“Me too,” Kawai sounds like he's smiling as he speaks. “Have a nice day.”

The first thing he does after hanging up is to message his mother to let her hear the good news, and then he sends a similar message to Yokoo. He doesn't wait for anyone's answer, instead he gets in the shower, replies to Yokoo's congratulations while he blow-dries his hair, and is halfway through getting dressed when his mother calls.  
“Yes, yes, it's true, I got it,” he laughs as he pulls on a cardigan, picks his favorite hat up from the top of the closet, puts it on as he heads for the hallway. His mother tells him that she knew he was going to be chosen, which he laughs at as well, but the words still warm his heart. Miyata lets her talk for another ten minutes or so, because he's not exactly in a rush, but he's ready to go and once they're both done talking for the moment, he hangs up with an “I love you too”.

That day, he buys the figurine he had promised himself. Then he waits.

When Friday finally comes Miyata is a nervous mess, but at the same time relieved. He arrives in the rather large, stylish lobby ten minutes to nine, extra stressed as his train had been late (only a couple of minutes, but enough to get him worked up). But he's there and he can sit down, take deep breaths, and wipe the sweat from his forehead while he waits. It feels like the clock is ticking slower than it usually does, or perhaps like it would right before an interview. Once that thought pops up in his mind he relaxes, though, because he has nothing to prove today, no one to convince. The job is his. All he needs to do is to meet his new colleagues. Which is kind of scary, too.

“Miyata-san?” A voice interrupts Miyata's thoughts, and he looks up to see a friendly smile that looks somewhat familiar. It's not until now that he realizes that Kawai, who introduces himself once again, was the one who met him and the other candidates for the first interview. “Welcome to our company. Will you come with me to my office?”  
“Gladly,” Miyata smiles back, grabs his bag as he stands up to follow Kawai to the elevators. They small talk while they're taken to the fifteenth floor, where they get off and into Kawai's office. It's fairly large, with a spectacular view of the city, and Miyata can't help but wonder what the CEO's office must look like. He's still looking at it as he sits down in the chair opposite to Kawai's, and he only turns his eyes back when he hears the sound of papers against the desk.  
“So, let's get to business. This won't take very long, I'm sure you heard most of it at the second interview. We work in teams like most other companies, and I assume you're familiar with the system from your last employment. You are going to be part of the marketing department, and we expect you to stay there the first year. If we see that it fits you and you feel comfortable you will stay there longer, but if we think you might do better in another department, you might get moved there. The same goes for if you wish to change departments; if there's an empty spot where you want to go, you can move there after the first year. Okay?”  
Miyata nods. “Yes.” It's not a particularly original system, but it seems to be effective.  
“How do you feel about the marketing department?” That sounds an awful lot like a question for an interview, but he knows it's not. It must be for the team spirit, or something.  
“No problem, I think it's close to what I used to do.”  
“Good. I know you're good with computers, so you're exactly what we need in that department right now.” Kawai winks at him and he's not sure how to take that, so he just laughs a little and hears Kawai snickering back. “Okay, paperwork, paperwork. This is our agreement, please read it, then sign here.”

All in all, they spend about half an hour in Kawai's office, probably thanks to all the information Miyata had been given on beforehand. Once done, they head out for what Miyata is still slightly nervous about, even though he's now officially an employee, has his name tag attached to the chest of his suit. They take the elevator down to the seventh floor, then right around a corner and into an office landscape where it looks like three departments are being housed, separated by fairly low portable walls.  
“You're over here,” Kawai speaks as he walks to the left, into the space closest to the large windows. “Hi, guys.” There are three men there, as well as a couple of empty chairs, but Kawai seems to be satisfied with just those three. “This is Miyata, who as you might know is starting for real on Monday.”  
“Yo!” The one with black hair just lifts a hand to greet him, but quickly rises up when he gets a shove from the one next to him. “I'm Nikaido.” He speaks pretty loudly, and the third man eyes him as if to remind him to keep his voice down. “Nice to meet you.”  
“I'm Miyata,” he replies, and continues to do so as the other two introduces themselves. The one that had shoved at Nikaido is Kitayama, a little shorter than all of them but with an aura that says he knows what he's doing. He's kind of handsome too, but Miyata will keep that to himself. The third man is Senga, with a light brown (dyed) perm that Miyata hadn't expected to find at a company like this, but then again as well as he does his job he supposes that his hair color doesn't matter. There's also an earring in his left ear, and he's wearing what looks like expensive shoes to a stylish suit; maybe he's just into fashion, and all the way at that.  
“Kitayama, will you take over from here?” It's not a question but Kitayama nods, then explains when Miyata looks a little confused.  
“The head of our department is in a meeting right now. It should be over soon, but I can do the rest of your introduction without him.”

It turns out that Kitayama has been working there longer than Nikaido and Senga, and therefore seems to be the most reliable of them. He's thorough in his explanations even though they're just general, and when they get to the end of it Miyata already feels confident he can do this job. Marketing isn't something he has done before, but he used to be part of sales management and they had a lot of contact with the marketing, so he wouldn't say he's entirely unfamiliar with it. It feels good, and he's glad to have at least one colleague that is easy-going and friendly. The other two seem to be friendly as well. At least with each other. Nikaido appears to be a little shy when talking to Miyata, but Kitayama tells him on the way to the coffee machine that he'll be his usual self with all of them as soon as he gets to know Miyata. Apparently that will be by the end of the day, at which Miyata laughs politely.  
“So now it's just the boss left, huh,” Kitayama sounds a little like he's making fun of said boss, or maybe it's a gaming joke, Miyata isn't sure. “Oh, speaking of the devil.” For a moment he wonders if that's another joke, but then a fairly tall young man in a neat suit exits the corridor next to the office landscape and steps into their department square, and Miyata freezes in his steps.

He looks different in bright day-light, maybe because they're both sober now, but there's no doubt that the equally stunned man in front of him is the Tama-chan he met at the gay club not so long ago. Miyata tries to blink away the memories that flood his mind to step forward and introduce himself (just the thought of having to act like he hasn't seen him before makes Miyata start to sweat). Both of them hesitating draws the attention of their colleagues, and Miyata decides that it's better to just be done with it.  
“I'm Miyata,” he gets out, and gets a nod back.  
“Tamamori, head of the marketing department.” So that's his full surname. Tamamori. Not a very common name, but not uncommon either. Maybe he can ask later why he didn't want to introduce himself with the full name. For now he waits for something, anything, but it's a long silence that is broken when Nikaido starts whistling loudly on what could be the melody of a cheesy love song. Miyata isn't sure if it's a coincidence or not, but he doesn't care either because it puts an end to their awkward moment and the next thing he knows, he's being directed to his own desk next to Senga. Who, as soon as Tamamori sits down with paperwork in the small side office connected to the landscape, starts gossiping.  
“Do you know each other?” The question makes sense. The much too curious look on Senga's face doesn't.  
“Not really,” Miyata replies, a bit reluctant because no matter how he tries to word it within his mind, the explanation sounds wrong. “Bumped into him a while ago.”  
“Really?” Senga seems to be shocked. “Where?”  
Miyata pretends to be busy with refurnishing the top of his new desk. “Well.” He just can't get any words out. He doesn't want to lie because he sucks at lying, and he doesn't want to tell the truth because he wants to keep his private life separate from his work life.  
“At a party?” Senga guesses, looking even more intrigued now, and Miyata quickly makes use of that guess.  
“Yeah, kinda,” he says, is relieved to see that both Senga and Kitayama look satisfied with that response (Nikaido isn't listening as he's got his eyes fixed on his phone screen, his thumb moving over it in what can only be gaming movements).  
“Huh. You don't really look like someone who goes to the kind of parties he does.” Kitayama cuts into their conversation, looks like he belatedly realizes that his words could be offensive. “Sorry.”  
“It's fine, we're different,” Miyata laughs, tries to stop himself but he's to curious to not ask, “what kind of parties is it usually?”  
Senga glances at him like he should know, but doesn't hesitate to continue his gossiping. “Fancy ones with important people and pretty girls?”

Miyata doesn't choke on his own breath but he is close to, partly because Tamamori hadn't seemed even the slightest straight at the club, and partly because that thought quickly leads to mental images of Tamamori's dark eyes looking up at him as he parts his lips.

During his first week, he gets used to the thought that maybe Tamamori is a little straight. Or, well, not straight, of course, considering the way he had treated Miyata, but maybe he is into girls too. Senga is the gossiper of the office and gladly tells him about Kitayama choosing too tight pants because his ass looks good in them (that one has Miyata wondering if there's any ulterior motives behind it, but maybe he just likes to look good), that Nikaido didn't fake his university degree (which kills the suspicions Miyata has, since he has to help him with his computer once every hour), and that Tamamori is ridiculously popular with the girls.  
“His latest ex was a model,” he lowers his voice and leans closer to Miyata as Tamamori gets back in his seat. “She was so gorgeous. Her skin looked so smooth...” He draws a long sigh and leans back to his own desk, and Miyata ignores the dreamy look he gets on his face. Instead he glances in Tamamori's direction and catches the aggressive red color his ears have turned. There's no doubt he overheard them and by the looks of it, he's embarrassed by it.  
“But he's single now?” Miyata asks, hoping the answer is yes. If there's something he never wanted to be, it's the one people are unfaithful with.  
“Yeah, but he doesn't lean that way, if that's why you're asking.” Kitayama winks at the end and Miyata understands that it's a joke, but he still can't think of anything to throw back at him since Tamamori is definitely leaning that way, and heavily so.  
“Miyata,” Tamamori stands up all of a sudden, “I want to talk to you about the upcoming project.”

The bossy tone has Miyata's heart skipping for a moment, even more so when Tamamori closes the door with a decent slam, and they're suddenly alone. He knows Tamamori isn't about to ask him to repay the favor from last time, but if he was to be honest with himself, he kind of wishes he would.  
“Don't you dare tell them about my secret.”  
“Your... secret?” Miyata isn't sure he gets what Tamamori means. All he knows is that Tamamori is into men, but if Kitayama's tight pants aren't a problem (which they actually sometimes are), then why should Tamamori's non-straightness be?  
“That I. Err. You know.” He flicks an awkward glance down Miyata's body and he's quickly starting to feel very hot in various places.  
“They can't know?”  
“No. If you tell them, I'll tell them you're an anime nerd with a schoolgirl complex.” Tamamori looks triumphant, like he has the key for blackmailing Miyata. That's not the truth, though, because yes, even Miyata would consider himself an anime nerd, but he's not exactly hiding it and he doesn't have a schoolgirl complex. Although he is interested in knowing how Tamamori figured that out, because they certainly didn't talk about that at the club.  
“Where did you get that from?”  
“I saw the wallpaper on your phone.” Miyata would laugh, if it wasn't for how troubled Tamamori looks, like he's actually afraid of his sexual orientation getting out, so he lets it all slide.  
“Sure, I won't tell.” There has to be a reason. Miyata just doesn't ask about it.

Instead, he decides to look into it the next Friday, when Tamamori is in the weekly meeting he had been in on Miyata's first day. To his disappointment Senga isn't around when he arrives, but he barely manages to set his laptop on his desk and get it running before he shows up. He waltzes in with two paper cups of coffee in his hand, careful not to spill any onto his expensive looking scarf; sets one cup on his own desk, then walks around the group of desks to where Nikaido is dead asleep on his desk.  
“Nika,” he leans in as he puts the second cup down. “Nika, wake up.” His lips are so close to Nikaido's ear that Miyata almost can't hear him, but maybe that's for the better because it looks much too private to both watch and listen to. Kitayama, however, doesn't bat an eye at what's going on. “I brought you coffee.” At that Nikaido opens his eyes, leans his head to the side and Senga moves back just enough for them not to touch.  
“What kind of coffee is it?” He sounds hoarse, but it's probably just a result of sleep.  
“Your usual.” The smile Senga wears when he straightens up is adorable, like he's satisfied with himself for satisfying Nikaido's needs (which sounds wrong in Miyata's head but whatever, that whole scene was suggestive enough).  
“I don't know, they've always been like that,” Kitayama tells him as he passes behind his chair, like he knows Miyata was about to ask. A little weird, he thinks, but now he knows that at least the co-workers don't seem to be homophobic, so that can't be Tamamori's problem. “Coffee? I can't sit around smelling theirs if I can't have my own.”  
That's when Miyata sees a chance, and takes it. “Actually, I'll come with you.”

It's probably not a great idea to leave the desk in favor of chatting first thing in the morning, but now is the only time he knows Tamamori won't show up in the middle of something. It has to be now.  
“Kitayama, I was wondering,” he starts, and Kitayama nods next to him. “Is Tamamori someone... special?”  
Kitayama laughs. “Why do you ask?”  
“The fancy parties thing, and a model for girlfriend, and... he's so young but head of department?” Miyata ends the sentence with his voice weakening; he considered not saying the last part, because Kitayama is older than all of them and still working under Tamamori, but he hopes he isn't going to be offended. He doesn't seem like the kind of person to be.  
“Oh, that.” For a second Miyata is afraid he's not going to tell him why, but he goes on. “He's the nephew of the CEO, that's basically why he got the position. But he does his job well, and if it wasn't him I wouldn't have been in that position anyway. I prefer working under him than under some old guy still going by the marketing standards from thirty years ago.”  
“I guess.” Tamamori's hiding of things makes sense to Miyata now, at least a little. Especially if the executive on the company has any kind of expectations of him one day taking over the company, since it might include expectations of him having children of his own. And he can't do that if he ends up falling for a man, not a woman. But if he's bisexual that would make it a fifty percents chance, so Miyata understands that he's keeping it a secret. If he ends up marrying a woman, no one will have to know. That's what Miyata imagines might be going on inside Tamamori's head; to be truthful, he really has no idea.  
“Is that all?” Kitayama sends him a suspicious glance, and only then it hits Miyata that he just killed the conversation he started himself.  
“Well, I was just wondering if there's any reason, really... So that's why he's so popular then?” He's not making things up. Senga has been telling about his history of girlfriends, only a few of them being longer lasting relationships, and he doesn't seem to have any problems picking up new ones.  
“No, he doesn't introduce himself as the executive's nephew. It's his looks and his style.” Kitayama sounds like he knows. “He's just good-looking and the girls swoon over him at group dates.”  
“Oh, group dates?” The question is mainly to distract himself, as he knows exactly how good Tamamori looks in casual clothes, styled hair, a hint of make-up, and the effects of alcohol visible in his eyes.  
“They're usually with his friends, not related to the company. I've come with him a couple times. I don't know where they find the girls, but they always look great. Then again all the guys do, too, so maybe it's just hot people hanging with other hot people.”  
Miyata can't stop himself when he starts to ask. “Are you... I mean, sorry, I...”  
“I'm not into guys, but I don't lie when I see someone that looks good. Do you?”  
“No, of course not,” he hurries to say, feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment.  
“Especially not if it means I'm included in the clique of hot people,” he winks, and it's mostly because he's a really good person that the hint of conceit isn't annoying.

Either Kitayama brought up the group dates for a reason, or it's a coincidence, but when Tamamori gets back from the meeting and checks his phone, he sits down with a heavy sigh.  
“Kitayama, are you free tomorrow?”  
“Nope,” is the quick answer, like he knows what's written on the screen on Tamamori's phone.  
“One of the guys got a sudden appointment he can't cancel and they told me to bring my friend.”  
“Sorry, I'm going to the viewing of an apartment.” Miyata can almost see Senga's ears twitching at the new information. Moving apparently has to mean more than wanting a new place to live, or maybe the reason of wanting to move is enough gossip for him. “Why don't you take Miyata?”

Miyata chokes on the water he just tried to swallow, Tamamori stiffens out of what must seem like nowhere to the others in the office, and then they both try to act like nothing happened. Miyata is sure he has never felt as awkward.  
“Sorry,” he tries to breathe evenly, “I'm not used to being suggested for group dates.” He attempts to laugh, sends a begging glance to Tamamori, to please have mercy on him, but what he gets back is what looks like challenge.  
“But you're coming, then?”

Before he has the time to think up an excuse that isn't his sexual orientation, Tamamori asks if he has any plans and he shakes his head to answer that. Suddenly it has been decided that he's going to a group date on Saturday, and to be honest, he already knows that the only one he will want to date, is Tamamori.

He gets Tamamori's phone number and the location of the restaurant they're going to; later the same evening he also gets a text where it says to dress up as nicely as he can. Miyata had planned to, seeing as Tamamori must be doing the same, but receiving the message still has butterflies fluttering inside his stomach. He supposes it's a silly reason, but being asked to dress up by someone that has admitted that Miyata is totally his type, makes him want to expect things he isn't going to get. At least not tonight, he tells himself, but he's also afraid that nothing will ever happen now that they are colleagues.

But he can't help hoping he gets a chance, as he himself certainly wouldn't give up if he found the definition of his likes embodied. The truth is, Tamamori isn't exactly that, but he still doesn't want to give up the thought, the _memories_ of him hot and impatient against him. And if they both want it, there is a lot more than a slight chance of it happening, he reasons.

And the night of the group date, he is further convinced that it will happen. They are at a relatively expensive restaurant, there are four men and four women at their table, and although Miyata isn't exactly interested in any of them there's one woman he talks a lot to. It's not like he doesn't notice the way she glances to his left, where Tamamori is seated, but he also doesn't mind. Especially not when Tamamori's knee brushes his own whenever he reaches across the table. Tamamori, on the other hand, is juggling two conversations at a time and Miyata is impressed with how good he is at it, even more so when the women start asking about his private life and he dodges the more difficult questions with more skill than Miyata himself dodging unwanted attention (a skill he doesn't brag about, but finds extremely handy).  
“What's the most awkward thing you've done on a date?” one of the girls ask Tamamori, and he laughs, embarrassed.   
“I started talking about serial murders on the first date,” Tamamori responds, eyes empty and for a moment Miyata thinks he's saying it to scare them away. However, they all burst out in laughter, Tamamori with them; maybe it is a true story he can now joke about. Or maybe he's trying to kill two birds with one stone.

The dinner ends well, and they head for a couple hours of friendly karaoke before parting ways for the night. It's fun, and watching Tamamori in the dark karaoke room almost makes Miyata laugh. He himself is of course not trying to make a move on any of the women, since even if they would be interested in him he couldn't imagine trying to be more than friendly with them. And by the looks of it, Tamamori might just be the same. He has one woman on each side, almost in his lap, and a third talking to him over the one that's between them. Tamamori couldn't look like he cared less, like he doesn't really want them close but also doesn't want to push them away, and Miyata sees right through it. The other men are slightly involved in the conversation and probably don't see it, but Miyata is amused by how ridiculous the situation is.

A popular guy at a group date, after a couple glasses of wine, would normally at least have his arm around the shoulder of the girl he's curious about. At least that's how Miyata imagines straight group date karaoke to be. Tamamori is the opposite of that. He's shying away when the girls get too close, and he is definitely not listening to whatever they're talking about, just nodding and humming to purposefully make them continue.

It doesn't bother Miyata, not the least. He has an excuse to look at Tamamori, since the girls are around him, and being able to look at Tamamori is partly why he showed up in the end. Now that he thinks of it, he looks a lot more like the Tamamori he met for the first time in the club, styled differently and with no bright office lights, and Miyata has to shake those thoughts out of his mind quickly because he feels himself getting hot; even more when for a split second their eyes meet and he's reminded just of how dark those eyes had been as he had wiped his mouth while standing up in the bathroom cubicle that night.

To his own relief the thoughts aren't allowed to spin any further, because his song comes on, but again, it doesn't bother Miyata at all. Not when he glances to the side in the middle of “Garasu no shounen” and sees that for the first time since they entered their karaoke room, Tamamori is actually listening to someone. He's listening to Miyata's voice.

They only stay for the amount of time they had planned, and as they exit their room to pay, Tamamori nudges Miyata for his attention.  
“Let's share a cab,” he says, like it's not a question, and Miyata just nods. Even though Tamamori can't know where he lives, unless he has been researching via his employment papers. “Go get us one, then.” Miyata's heart jumps at the bossy tone, surprised at the blatant order, but he doesn't mind because it's kind of hot in a way he probably couldn't describe even if he wanted to. The girl that had seemed the most interested in Tamamori whines when she hears he isn't planning on taking the train with her, but one of the other men smoothly offers to follow her to the station and she at least seems to be less unhappy after that. Just as smoothly, or at least he hopes so, Miyata sneaks away towards the door while the others pay, takes out his phone and dials his standard taxi; he assumed that's what Tamamori wanted him to do. By the time he hangs up Tamamori knocks on his shoulder, tells him that he already paid for Miyata, and that the others are ready to go.

That's how they are left alone on a street in Shibuya, waiting for a cab that shows up within short; the minutes that they wait, they stay silent. Tamamori for a reason Miyata doesn't know, and Miyata because he's occupied with thinking about how he should ask the only question he really wants answered. In the end he blurts it out after giving the driver his address, followed by a good five minutes of silence, like the words throw themselves out of his mouth.  
“You're not into girls at all, are you?”

The face that meets him goes from judging to sad in less than a few seconds, and to Miyata's surprise, Tamamori actually shakes his head. There's something in his eyes that makes him want to just pull him close and hug him, something that looks complicated, difficult and painful, and that's ultimately what stops him from following his initial urge. But when they reach the street that Miyata is to get dropped off at, Tamamori steps out after him, pulls him back by his upper arm and into the hug Miyata had wanted to give him. For a good minute they just stand there, Miyata's heart racing in what could be confusion and awkwardness just as well as it could be compassion and maybe, maybe something more. He's too preoccupied by feelings to recognize the brief touch of lips against his own before it's gone and Tamamori is climbing back into the cab.

Miyata is taken by shock when Tamamori announces that he's bringing Miyata along to Osaka for a business trip two weeks later. First of all, he feels like he's too new on the job to do something as important as that (he barely knows his way around the building, the first and seventh floors excepted). Secondly, Nikaido isn't trying to hide that he should be the one to go.  
“I was basically promised to go on the next one,” he grumbles, but Tamamori waves him away.  
“I'll bring you when you've learned how to use PowerPoint in an efficient way. Miyata has the experience from his previous job, and I want him to see the way we work outside the office.”  
“At least I'll be here with you?” Senga is looking straight at Nikaido with eyes that might as well be those of a happy puppy, and if those two aren't having a thing, Miyata will eat his shoes for dinner.  
“So will everyone except Miyata and Tamamori,” Kitayama cuts in, but it doesn't seem to make Senga's happiness fade, since Nikaido is pointing at him with a flirty wink.

The days before the trip Miyata is actually really nervous. To begin with it's his first business trip, but there's also the fact that he's going alone with Tamamori and it could turn out either awesome, or very very awkward. After the quick kiss outside the cab that night, Miyata has felt like they're somewhere between friends and something more. Or maybe they're not even friends, just colleagues, but he knows that he, for one, has little flutters in his stomach sometimes that tell him that being colleagues isn't what he wants. That's what makes him the most nervous about the trip. That he has developed a crush on Tamamori and he's not sure if it's okay to have one, if Tamamori feels something too, or if the hug and the kiss had only been for comfort (and it has come to the point where the blowjob no longer feels like something between them, but between strangers).

He's still nervous when he meets up with Tamamori at Shinagawa station, but it subsides quickly as Tamamori greets him with a small smile, then casually pushes him before him into the train and to their seats. He's a natural leader, Miyata has understood that from their time working together, but when he does it like this, physically, it's hard to not think he's a leader in other situations too. Miyata doesn't admit to himself that he really wants know whether he is, and what he's like, what he sounds like without club sounds and with direct touches.

But as Tamamori starts talking business all those thoughts leave Miyata's mind in favor of taking in all the information about the company they're meeting with once again. It's probably the third time he hears about it but he definitely doesn't want to make any mistakes, wants to appear as professional as possible. Maybe Tamamori is trying to fit all the details into his explanations because it takes one and a half hour until he finishes, just in time for the lunch serving they ordered to arrive, and he pats Miyata's knee with a smile.  
“This will be great,” he adds, more to himself than to Miyata, or so it appears, and then his attention is all on parting his chopsticks to get ready to eat. It takes Miyata another ten seconds or so to get started on his, brain busy analyzing the length of the pat he just got, and he's shakes the potential answers out of his head with a final conclusion. He's a lost case.

They head straight for the meeting once they arrive at Shin-Osaka station, and Miyata's nervousness awakens, stays awake for the entire meeting. It keeps him alert, though, and although he stumbles over his words a few times the other company representatives seem overall pleased. The meeting goes smoothly and it looks like they might have a deal; it depends on the outcome of tomorrow's meeting as well, but it's very promising and as they walk out of the building Tamamori tells Miyata that the dinner is on him tonight, as a mini celebration.

While Miyata thinks of what kind of restaurant he wants to go to Tamamori checks into the Japanese style hotel he had booked for them. It's a really nice one, expensive looking to the point where Miyata would definitely not have stayed at it if he wasn't traveling with the company, and apart from the feeling of not really belonging there, it does feel really good to be there.

It feels even better when they are led to their room, Tamamori continuously talking to the lady in the plain but beautiful kimono, Miyata too busy looking at the interior to listen to them. He does understand why she sounded so apologetic once they get to their room, and as she leaves them and he sees Tamamori's face, he also understands why Tamamori hadn't seemed particularly bothered. Their room is fairly large, with tatami mats and large windows, and a double bed.  
“There must have been some mistake while booking,” Tamamori shrugs as he sets his luggage down on the floor, “but it's okay, right?”

If there's no ulterior motive behind that, Miyata is willing to spend the night on the streets instead.

“There's an onsen, apparently,” Miyata says as he flips through the hotel guide, looks up when something is flung onto the chair next to his own.  
“I know, we're going there.” Tamamori seems to assume that Miyata wants to go there, because on the chair he finds a yukata he is probably meant to bring, along with the towel that is flung over it next. “Come on, if we go now it won't be crowded!” Tamamori pulls him up by his arm, and Miyata would be offended if his heart didn't skip a beat at the smell of Tamamori's cologne, and the genuine excitement he's exuding. Suddenly he feels like he's face to face with Tama-chan again, instead of Tamamori the colleague, and it excites him more than might be appropriate pre-onsen.

They barely get into hot the water before Tamamori moves closer to Miyata, his bare thigh resting against Miyata's, casually enough that no one notices, and as they move into a corner that is more secluded, where they are currently alone, he becomes more daring. Miyata leans his head back against the edge of the bath, closes his eyes and it doesn't take long before there's fingers in his hair, stroking it aside, plays a little with the now damp strands of brown hair before he dives under them and massages his scalp lightly. Miyata leans into the touch, feels all his tension just run out of his body to be replaced with relaxation, enjoys the treatment he wishes was more common in his life.  
“You like that?” Tamamori whispers, a sweet tone to his voice, and when Miyata parts his eyelids he finds that the look from the first night they met is back in his eyes. So attractive.  
“Mm,” he hums, lets him continue for another minute or so before he tilts his head fully to the side. “Are you hitting on me?”  
“Maybe,” he smiles mischievously, but when Miyata leans up for a kiss he pulls back. “Later.”

It has come to the point now that Miyata has to talk about it. “You're not straight.” Tamamori shakes his head, and Miyata tries with the question he has already made once before. “Do you even like girls at all?” He hears the long, deep breath he draws.  
“No. But I've tried to?” There's a troubled look on his face. “The girls I've dated, we've actually been dating. But...”  
“But you didn't like them.”  
“I liked them as people, as friends, but there was never any lust?” Pause. “Not from my side, at least.”  
“Did you...” Miyata can't bring himself to say it straight out, but Tamamori seems to know what he is about to ask, shakes his head in response.  
“No. I tried to, but I couldn't... You know.” He actually laughs a little now, sends a quick glance downwards and Miyata gets the hint. He couldn't get it up with them. “One... did it with her mouth and it was okay until I opened my eyes.” He's still laughing, silently, and Miyata allows himself to join in. It is a kind of fun situation if Tamamori thinks so too. Especially when he thinks of the fact that Tamamori got hard only from using his mouth on Miyata. It's almost hotter now.  
“But no one can know?” The laughs stop with the new question, as expected.  
“I'm... used to hiding it? I shouldn't show it, in case I'll be moved up in the company...”  
“You'd be happier not hiding it though, wouldn't you?” Tamamori looks away, like he knows it's true but doesn't want to acknowledge the thought. “Do you really wanna choose your career over your personal happiness?”  
“I wish I could have both.” The way it sounds like he has given up bothers Miyata a little.  
“So you would do what, marry a woman you don't want to marry? Just to look good for the company? You wouldn't have children anyway, right?”  
“No...” Tamamori smiles half-heartedly. “I guess the ideal thing would be to marry a lesbian.” He laughs, and this time it's not a particularly happy laugh.  
“Are you going to inherit the company?”  
“I... don't think so? I'm just a nephew. But my parents aren't very accepting when it comes to... that. They know, but they don't know it's only men, for me.”  
“Would you be fired for being gay?”  
Tamamori shakes his head. “But I maybe wouldn't get to do important jobs.”  
“Well.” Miyata shrugs. “I'd rather be in your position in the company and be happy with someone I love for real, than long for that someone while doing more important jobs. But that's just me.” He tries to ignore how it sounds a lot like they're in love and dating. Maybe part of his brain wants it to sound like it.  
“... I suppose.” An avoiding answer, but Tamamori isn't looking very upset, more like he's thinking about it. It works as a distraction for both of them when he puts his hand back in the back of Miyata's neck, scratches lightly again, and then speaks with the same mischievous tone as earlier. “You'll have to wait for the kiss either way.”

And Tamamori keeps him waiting. They get out of the water, wash off and put on their yukata, Tamamori whining that he's tired now and Miyata suggests that they have dinner at the hotel, as was planned for them to begin with as it's included in their stay (and that Tamamori treats him to dinner when they're back in Tokyo instead). To his surprise Tamamori agrees to that without any complaints, just flops on the bed with a happy sound.  
“That felt so good,” he sighs, and it's really hard for Miyata to not imagine him saying the same thing after coming, as well as it's hard to stop imagining it because an erection isn't really what any hotel employee should have to see as they deliver the food.  
“Yeah,” Miyata agrees as he sits down on the edge of the bed, is glad that Tamamori sits up so that the urge to lie down next to him becomes less difficult to handle, or so he thought, until Tamamori leans in and presses their lips together. The wish to get horizontal is suddenly stronger than he wants it to be.

This kiss is nothing like on the dance floor, or in the restroom at the club. It's slow but powerful, Tamamori leading them with a hand against Miyata's jaw and Miyata is perfectly fine with just following in what feels less like a hook-up than he could have hoped for. Tamamori's breath is soft against his own lips when he pulls back just a centimeter, and Miyata can't help but open his eyes and look at him. As he does he finds Tamamori doing the same, cheeks a little pink and it's impossible to tell if it's because he's excited or embarrassed, but in his eyes he sees something he has seen before, only calmer this time. Want.  
“Excuse me,” a voice says, along with a couple knocks, and Miyata flies up from the bed as their door is opened. The lady who has brought their traditional dinner has a slightly suspicious look on her face when she notices Tamamori's red ears, but she only wishes them a comfortable dinner and lets them know when she will be back to get the trays.  
“Later,” Miyata tries to imitate Tamamori from before, but only gets a glare (a not so serious glare, though) back as they sit down by the table. They chat as they eat, Miyata tells him about what he does in his free time, laughs at the “knew it” he gets when he mentions that he really is an anime fan and continues to explain that he's not at all ashamed of his favorite series and Tamamori revealing it to the colleagues wouldn't really matter to him. At which Tamamori says he'll come up with a way to make it sound worse, and they're still laughing about it when their trays are retrieved.  
“Have a good night,” the lady in charge of them says, again apologizes about the room being a double instead of a twin, and leaves them with a polite bow.

“You're going to make up for last time?” Tamamori has a hand in Miyata's hair even before they reach the bed, neither of them trying to stall time before they get to what they both want. No awkwardness, no stupid silence, just Tamamori's voice low against his lips before he kisses him, makes it impossible for him to answer before he has gotten them both onto the sheets, Miyata on his back and Tamamori above him. He ends up nodding, keeps his hands tangled in short black hair as they kiss like it's all they know how to do, partly to distract himself from just shoving his hands inside Tamamori's yukata and feel his skin under his fingers, finally. Tamamori gets ahead of him, undoes Miyata's sash and air meets his bare chest as his yukata is parted, pushed partly as far off his shoulder as possible as he's on his back. And then, out of nowhere, Tamamori pulls on him, pulls him up and rolls them over; Miyata has to break the kiss to take in the change and what he sees when he looks down has his heart jumping (and his cock twitching).

Tamamori has a light blush on his cheeks, his hair mussed up and lips parted, want written on his face, obvious in the hand that pushes lightly on his shoulder.  
“Please?” he breathes, and Miyata knows exactly what he means, has to hold himself back to not rush as he lowers himself, slides his hands along Tamamori's sides. Impatience gets the best of him as he just pushes the yukata apart below the sash, hooks his fingers under the waist of Tamamori's underwear and pulls them right off. He's a little amused by how Tamamori's legs seem to part instinctively, isn't opposed to it maybe turning out the opposite way of what he had imagined so far because damn, does he look good like that. First things first, though, and Miyata finds it difficult to think of anything better than the sound Tamamori makes when he wraps a hand around his erection, not fully hard yet but getting there quickly. If that's what he sounds like now he can't wait to replace his fingers with his mouth, because this is only the beginning and he's already moaning. Something inside Miyata tells him to ask Tamamori what he wants, tells him that he wants to hear him say it, but he waves the suggestions away and leans down instead, flicks his tongue out against the head of Tamamori's cock. There's a sharp gasp at the initial touch, then his legs spread wider and Miyata follows the motions, slides his lips along his length, licks at him as he does and he feels his own erection pushing against the fabric of his underwear as it twitches when Tamamori mewls further up.

It's the exact opposite to the blowjob Tamamori had given him; Miyata takes his time, waits until Tamamori appears to be about to beg for it before he takes the tip between his lips. After that he goes a little faster, speeds up without himself noticing because Tamamori's heavy breaths and little noises fill his ears and it's the only thing he's focusing on, his mouth and the hand around the base of his cock on autopilot but Tamamori doesn't seem to mind the least.  
“Miyata,” he gasps, thighs quivering (Miyata notices it only because one of them is resting against his arm), “there's lube in my bag.” Miyata glances up and sees arousal mixed with embarrassment on Tamamori's face, a mix that turns him on more than it perhaps should. The few steps to Tamamori's bag feel awkward with the erection he's sporting, but it feels okay when he gets back only to be asked to take off his clothes. The yukata slips off easily since it's already undone, and he pulls his underwear off before he gets onto the bed again.  
“Do you want to... ?” Miyata eyes the lubrication and Tamamori seems to understand the question that he feels like he needs to ask, but Tamamori shakes his head, bites into his lower lip and lifts one of his legs. For a second Miyata feels like he might come just from the sight of it.  
“My yukata too...” he mumbles, and Miyata decides to test his luck.  
“Keep it on a little longer?” As he speaks he opens the bottle, feels Tamamori's eyes on him as he coats his fingers in lubrication. “It's looks hot.”  
“Yeah.” It's just a breath and Miyata doesn't know if he's agreeing to wear it, if he thinks it's hot too, or if he thinks the same of Miyata. It's not like it matters, in fact all that matters to Miyata is the way his middle finger sinks smoothly inside Tamamori, muscles clenching lightly as he moves it, then relaxing as if this was all his body ever wanted.  
“Does that feel good?” he asks, even though he's aware it's far from as good as it'll get, for both of them.  
“Not enough.” Tamamori's voice is more a moan than anything right now, sounds so good that Miyata is willing to obey anything he'd say. So if it's more he wants, then that's what he'll give him. There is some pressure as he inserts the second finger, but it eases quickly once Miyata leans down and takes his cock between his lips again. He doesn't suck properly now, though, since Tamamori's hips are rolling down onto his fingers, up into his mouth and he does want this to last a little bit longer. “More.” It could have sounded demanding if Tamamori hadn't sounded turned on to the limit as he said it. Miyata gives him a third finger and it's a little difficult this time, but Tamamori only leans his head back, spreads his legs further, pulls on the top of his yukata to open it, at least over his chest.

It's easy to tell when Tamamori is ready, and Miyata withdraws his fingers only to realize he'll have to get up to get a condom, something that is even more awkward now that he's fully erect (even though he has barely been touched), but as he turns around to watch Tamamori in the same state, ridding himself of his yukata, he feels like it doesn't matter how ridiculous he must look. Even less when he gets back between Tamamori's long and slender legs, his beautiful body laid out on the sheets, the yukata still under his back and Miyata is certain he hasn't had anyone this pretty in his entire life; certainly not anyone _this_ enthusiastic, either.  
“Stop,” he says then, completely opposite to the aura he gives off, but continues, “stop staring and get on with it.” The annoyed look on his face only stays until Miyata rolls the condom onto his cock, lets slip a moan at his own touch, and it has changed to anticipation once he positions himself. Miyata hears one little word before he pushes inside, one that he chooses not to comment on because if it isn't what he thinks it is it will be embarrassing, will remember it as what he wants it to be because he can't recall being called hot during sex before. Maybe because his partners haven't been very talkative, maybe because he hasn't been their type to the level that he apparently is for Tamamori, but he is going to live on it for a long time.

For now, he'll focus on how Tamamori feels around him, how good he looks when he closes his eyes, how his hands come up to stroke up Miyata's rib cage to his shoulders, then to lock in the back of his neck. Miyata is already thrusting when Tamamori pulls him down to kiss him, lips parted and moving hungrily against Miyata's and it's impossible to not fall into the neediness. He's rocking Tamamori's body with his thrusts as he moves mostly for himself, but still listens to the sounds and notices the tensing of his muscles to understand what Tamamori likes, repeats what he thinks is right and feels so proud when it results in a faster gasp, a deeper breath, a louder moan.  
“Miya- _ah_ ,” Tamamori tries to speak but gets cut off by his own pleasure (and Miyata secretly wishes he would use his first name). “Faster?”

Miyata is glad to comply, pulls away from the kiss to straighten up a little, takes a firm grip on Tamamori's waist and speeds up, doesn't feel at all as self-conscious as he has sometimes done before with new partners, only feels good and by the looks of it, Tamamori is about at the same level as himself. Between his legs his cock is so hard it's not even bouncing, just leaking against his stomach and Miyata has only started to think about changing their positions to one where he can touch him when Tamamori reaches down to curl a hand around himself. From then it's just a matter of time until Tamamori's movements grow erratic and his breathing uneven, hand working his cock fast and tight and he comes in long spurts of white, spilling onto his abs. Miyata is proud for managing to hold out long enough to watch it; now that his efforts are no longer needed by Tamamori he lets go, thrusts a last couple of times before he stills, hips jerking and muscles all tense for a few seconds, then as he pulls out he relaxes, ends up rolling onto his side next to Tamamori.  
“Get rid of that,” Tamamori mumbles, already reaching down for Miyata's crotch where he pulls the condom off him before Miyata even thinks about it. He tosses it towards the trashcan that conveniently is placed less than a couple meters away, then makes a satisfied sound when he apparently goals, then reaches for tissues to clean himself and Miyata up.  
“Tama-ch-” Miyata stops himself abruptly, isn't sure it's okay to call him what he had been told the first time they met (Tamamori however doesn't bat an eyelash, only aims for the trashcan again and this time misses). “I mean...”  
“Say Tama-chan,” he agrees, then starts making his way under the blankets with what seems to be a badly hidden smile. “Come on.” Miyata is urged along and it's a little surprising how Tamamori shamelessly cuddles up against him. “I haven't done that in _ages_ ,” he sighs, a happy sigh, runs his hand along Miyata's bare back and up to his neck, plays gently with his hair.  
“Really?”  
“Mm.” He nuzzles Miyata's shoulder. “I missed it.”

Miyata hopes Tamamori doesn't hear the way his heart beats, isn't about to acknowledge it even to himself.  
“You booked this room on purpose, didn't you?”  
“... No,” and Tamamori hides his face, then peers back at him with that mischievous look in his eyes. “Maybe.” He leans in for a quick kiss, and Miyata warms inside at how happy he looks when he pulls back. “I won't come out to the company. But I don't think I wanna try to date girls anymore.”  
“Good,” and he means it, even though it doesn't necessarily mean he gets a chance. If he wanted one. Which he kind really of does. But it's good for Tamamori to stop acting to be what he's not, especially if it puts as much pressure on him as it seems like it does.  
“You won't say anything though, will you?”  
“Of course not.” Who Tamamori tells the truth isn't his business.  
“Great,” he for some reason sounds relieved, as if Miyata would have told someone, then he leans closer again, but without kissing him. “Then I want to keep you. Can I?”

It's silly for a confession coming from a grown man, but Miyata still feels his ears burning and it's not from embarrassment.  
“Yeah.” That's all he is able to get out before he gets ahead of himself and just kisses Tamamori because there's no way he could put words on everything he's feeling inside. He hopes it transfers from his lips to Tamamori's, and judging by the way Tamamori kisses him back, he thinks it does.


End file.
